


In Which the Insufferable Become Endearing

by lbk_princen



Series: Oneshots 'n Drabbles [1]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: ??? how does one tag, Cute Homogays, One Shot, admission of feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-08
Updated: 2014-10-08
Packaged: 2018-02-20 08:49:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2422595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lbk_princen/pseuds/lbk_princen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dave wants to tell Karkat how he feels, but gets inexplicably nervous. Karkat just thinks it's adorable.<br/>~~<br/>got the idea from a post by tumblr user deer-dearest.</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which the Insufferable Become Endearing

Your name is Dave Strider and you are so fucking nervous. It should be illegal to be this nervous, because seriously this shit could kill a guy.

You are nervous because today is the day you fess up. Today is the day you get some balls and tell that adorable fucking shouty little tornado of rage and other various strong emotions that you love him. After what, a year now? Something like that. (Actually you know exactly how long it's been since you realised you had real feelings for him. One year, three months, 16 days, and 18 hours. On anyone else it would be creepy but time is sort of your deal.)

Anyway you are standing in the doorway of the meteor common room, silently freaking the fuck out. Your face feels hot and your palms are sweaty, your cool has completely deserted you, left you in the dust with your child and no alimony. Your cool is so far gone you can't even see it anymore, it is completely off-radar. 

You can see him, he's on the couch, watching a movie. Still kinda in shock from the complete absence of your cool, you just sort of stand there staring at the back of his head. Those soft-looking black snarls that you know are more coarse than they look, the golden tipped, rounded off horns that he's sensitive about. Your hands find your cape and you wipe your hands. This isn't a good idea, you think. You should wait for a better time, for when you actually have an iota of an idea of what you want to say. You should-

Oh shit.

He turned his head.

He's looking at you, and the expression on his face tells you that he knows you've been standing there for a while. (Four minutes and thirty-eight seconds. Thirty-nine, forty, forty-one...)

Welp. You can't just turn and go as if you had only paused in passing. He's staring at you, and you're staring right back. Come on Strider, say something!

"Hey Karkat," you blurt out, in this god-awful squeaky-ass voice that you swear you've never heard yourself speak in. Except for maybe when you were like, twelve.

He kind of quirks an eyebrow but other than that his expression doesn't change. He doesn't look pissed -- which is good -- but he doesn't look too pleased -- not exactly good, but not unusual, either.

Goddamn you must look like such an idiot. You shuffle into the room, your hands awkwardly at your sides. You want to do something with them, but you also don't want to look fidgety. You settle for pushing your shades higher on your nose as you make your way over to him.

"Um, listen-" Goddamn it you're squeaking again and your face is probably the same colour as your fucking god tier. So you try again.

"I-I just wanted to talk to you, um, a-about this, like, this thing, that-" Oh God you can't do this. You can't do this and your voice is pitching up an octave. You can't do this and he's looking at you expectantly with this infuriating (infuriatingly adorable) smirk. You can't do this and you're already doing this and you hate your life.

"Oh fuck I sound like such a tool, um," you blather on, and you're standing in front of him, and when did he pause his movie? You're staring at your feet but you can tell that he's standing oh no what is he going to say.

"Dave," Karkat says. You look up and you're hands are sweating again and you feel like such a tool for all the stammering you've done. He looks amused, and fuck him for that, but he also looks... kinda nervous too? Or maybe you're imagining the faint blush on his face.

"Um, y-yeah?" you squeak out.

"Just shut up already." The words are harsh but his voice and expression are anything but. He takes your hand and your heart is racing. You wish you had the chance to wipe your palms again so they wouldn't be so clammy but oh well. He takes your hand and his warm grey fingers slip between your pale pink ones. You look at his eyes and see something in them that makes your heart fucking melt and goddamn do you love your life.

"I like you," you choke out, and the asshole laughs.

"I noticed," he snorts, squeezing your hand gently. "You fucking endearing prick."

Your name is Dave Strider and you are so fucking relieved.


End file.
